


old wound

by scriveyner (trismegistus)



Series: Voltron Fic Collection [51]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Frost Spirit Lance (Voltron), Knight Shiro (Voltron), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24976837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/scriveyner
Summary: Lance kept away from the fire, the light… perched with his back to the flickering flame on a lichen-slick rock and watched the waves cut and distort the distant moon’s reflection. He didn’t like the fire, wasn’t used to it despite Keith lighting one each night, striking sparks from the strange blade he wore on his back. Maybe it would become more normal, in time. Lance didn’t know. He had never changed before, never had any reason to believe that he could.
Relationships: Lance/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Voltron Fic Collection [51]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/496336
Comments: 1
Kudos: 26





	old wound

Lance kept away from the fire, the light… perched with his back to the flickering flame on a lichen-slick rock and watched the waves cut and distort the distant moon’s reflection. He didn’t like the fire, wasn’t used to it despite Keith lighting one each night, striking sparks from the strange blade he wore on his back. Maybe it would become more normal, in time. Lance didn’t know. He had never changed before, never had any reason to believe that he could.

But he had changed, hadn’t he?

There was a shuffle behind him, and Lance knew the sound of Shiro’s leathers by now. He didn’t turn his head to acknowledge Shiro when the knight hoisted himself up on the rock beside Lance, though he kept his back to the ocean.

“Do you miss what you were?” Shiro asked him after the silence had stretched long. The question caused Lance to turn his head, to look at the man who was not looking at him.

Lance tucked his arms in, folded against his chest, shoulders hunched as he considered the query. “It was freedom,” he said finally, staring up at the moon. “But also a prison, chained to the turn of the season, frozen in a moment of time.” There was a quirk to his voice and he exhaled a short, small laugh. “But now I suppose I am chained to you, sir Knight, so perhaps I have simply exchanged one prison for another.”

He realized at the sharp intake of breath that he may have spoken too freely, and he turned gaze away, face ablaze.

“I do not wish to keep you bound,” Shiro said softly, and there was hurt layered thick in his tone. “But you are not a prisoner here and are free to take your leave, Lance. None of us would begrudge you your freedom, nor stop you.” A pause. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

Another pause, heavier than the last. Shiro didn’t seem to understand, and that hurt more than he thought it would; how could he not realize that those chains that bout them together were deeper than the witch’s magic and older than the tides?

“Where would I go?” Lance said, and squeezed his eyes shut because he couldn’t stand the thought to face him, face _this_. “I have no home but you.”

Shiro’s hand—the left one, still of flesh, the warmth of human life, placed careful on his shoulder. How foreign that still felt, the warmth of the living, and Lance opened his eyes and looked at his Knight, whose smile sat soft and fond. “You honor me,” Shiro said, and his left hand lifted, touched Lance’s face and Lance, still startled by the warmth, leaned his cheek into that bare hand and turned his face into Shiro’s warmth.

“ _Together,”_ the princess had said, driving the cart, Lance seated beside her wrapped in his cloak and hidden from the sun, “ _we are the strongest.”_

Lance closed his eyes again as Shiro leaned in, brushed his lips over Lance’s, and smiled.


End file.
